


Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered

by jacyevans



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cameo by the elusive Greenberg, Everybody Wants Stiles, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Inspired by Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Minor Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey/Lydia Martin, Minor Malia Tate/Kira Yukimura, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 20:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10521648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacyevans/pseuds/jacyevans
Summary: I didn't mean to. That should be his mantra – I didn’t mean to drive the entire school batshit-crazy, I didn’t mean to break the vase, I didn’t mean to trip and elbow Derek in the face. I didn’t mean to get my best friend bitten by a werewolf after dragging him out into the woods to find half of a body.You know. Little things.





	

**Author's Note:**

> When I saw the first prompt for Shipping With Stiles Week was “Fool for Love," I immediately thought of the episode of Buffy where Xander casts the love spell and everyone falls in love with him. For future reference, that episode is _not_ Fool For Love. WHATEVER, I DO WHAT I WANT. 
> 
> This is a disgusting, self-indulgent ball of fluff. A barrel of fluff. A whole fuckload of fluff. 
> 
> Fluff everywhere, basically. Abandon ship.
> 
> Dedicated to Inell, for dragging me into this mess.

Stiles barricades himself in the closest classroom, feet skidding on the slick, tile floor as he rounds the doorway. He slams the door shut and flips the lock – the broken lock, because of fucking course.  


Growling, Stiles grabs one of the desks, then another, shoving them against the door so they slam against the wood with a loud _bang!_

“This is your fault, you know,” Stiles says, and Scott barks a laugh. He’s the only one not affected by this mess.

“My fault?” Scott yanks the teacher’s desk over like it weighs nothing, dragging it across the floor with a squeaking sound and leaving skid marks behind. “How the hell is this my fault?”

Stiles grunts, glancing at the two open windows and rushing across the room. “You could have anyone you want, Stiles,” he says, mimicking a high-pitched version of his friend’s voice as he slams one of the windows shut. “You just have to put yourself out there, Stiles.”

“I didn’t tell you to cast a damn love spell!” Scott closes the other window before turning towards Stiles, slightly out of breath, with the Disappointed face that always makes Stiles wince.

Stiles found the love spell in one of Deaton’s books – and that should have been his first warning sign, really, that something would go terribly wrong. The bastard never gives anything away freely.

Stiles knows he isn’t the most likeable person on the planet. He’s abrasive and sarcastic, and he was also possessed by an evil fox demon and almost killed all of his friends, but that’s neither here nor there. The spell was just supposed to move things along, give fate a little nudge in the right direction. He didn’t mean to make the entire school fall in stupid, stalker-like love with him.

Stiles snorts. I didn’t mean to - that should be his mantra. I didn’t mean to drive the entire school batshit-crazy, I didn’t mean to break the vase, I didn’t mean to trip and elbow Derek in the face. I didn’t mean to get my best friend bitten by a werewolf after dragging him out into the woods to find half of a body.  


You know. Little things.

Stiles knew something was awry when Lydia planted herself in his lap at lunch, nibbling on his ear and whispering about joining her, Isaac, and Allison in the third floor janitor’s closet. Coach asked him to come to his office instead, with a wink and a smile. There’s an image no amount of brain bleach will ever wash out.

Kira cornered him at his locker, pressing him against the wall and trailing a finger down his shirt, saying he would look better out of it. Malia’s claws dragged down his back, the sharp points threatening to tear the material to shreds, while his Freshman English teacher whose name he doesn’t even remember watched with daggers in her eyes.

The only person who still seemed sane was Scott, who grabbed Stiles’ arm just as Malia growled and yanked on Freshman English teacher’s hair, and Isaac attempted to make a flying leap onto Kira’s back. 

“What the hell do we do?” Scott asks, knocking his hip against one of the desks and bringing Stiles crashing back to earth. He ducks as a cell phone flies through the window in the door and almost brains him. The mob swarms, attempting to push their way into the room. 

Stiles flings himself at the door, smacking one of the hands away as it grabs at his hair, and -- is that Greenberg climbing up the outside of the fucking _building?_

Christ on a bike.

“You’re the emissary!”

“In training,” Stiles clarifies. “Emissary _in training._ Meaning not yet equipped to dissolve an angry mob under the effects of a potent love spell.”

“But equipped enough to cast one?”

“Now’s not the time to get high and mighty on me, Scotty,” Stiles snaps, holding a textbook against the broken glass, like that will manage to do anything of use. “Maybe we can jump out the windows and make a break for it. Use Greenberg as a human shield.”

“Are you kidding?” Scott asks, sounding a little hysterical. Disaster is imminent. “That’ll never work!”

Stiles yelps and ducks as one of the hands yanks on his ear. “Okay, oh wise and all-knowing alpha, you got any better ideas?”

Scott pushes off of the desk without preamble, foot getting caught against one of the legs, and for a moment, Stiles thinks Scott actually tripped and fell and landed on Stiles’ lips. Except one of Scott’s hands cups his face, the other molding to his hip, skin so warm against his. Stiles feels like he’s on fire, melting into the kiss.

Scott pulls back just enough for Stiles to take a steadying breath. “Why did you do that?” he asks, voice cracking.

Scott shrugs, like this is no big deal. Like he didn’t just violate several articles of the bro code. Stiles would know; he wrote it when they were ten. “A kiss to break the spell,” Scott says. “Figured it works in all the movies.”

Stiles scoffs, then pauses when he hears --

Nothing. 

No angry mob banging at the door, no heavy objects being pelted at his head. Just a bunch of confused students, teachers, and one grumpy lacrosse coach, wondering why they’re all in the hallway, crowded around the old Chemistry lab rather than in class. 

Scott’s lips pull into a smug yet disgustingly fond smile. Stiles never considered why the spell didn’t work on Scott - obnoxiously optimistic Scott, with his crooked jaw and annoying morals, saving Stiles’ ass, because that’s what they do. They’re bros. BFFs. Besties since Scott wandered over to Stiles’ lonely corner of the sandbox and asked if he could help build a sandcastle.

Or maybe the whole point of the spell was to point out what was right in front of him all along.

“You’re ridiculous,” Stiles says, buoyant, like he could float away. Scott’s arms tighten around his waist, tethering him back to earth. “Absolutely freaking ridiculous.”

“ _You’re_ ridiculous.”

“Your face is ridiculous,” Stiles says, and they grin at each other.

“Uhh, guys?” Greenberg says, gripping the edge of the window with white-knuckled fingers and ruining the moment. “Someone wanna help me down?”


End file.
